Never Prepared For This
by atlasblue85
Summary: When Clint loses his hearing he has to believe that Natasha knows exactly what he needs.


_A/N: It's been a while since I've actually finished anything instead of just leaving it half-finished in despair. This was originally written for a prompt at the Clint/Natasha community over on lj. As always, the characters are not mine. _

_Enjoy!_

Clint told her it would never work. Told her there was no help, that he was beyond hope. His hearing had been awful his entire life and that blast had only served to destroy what little, feeble bit remained. There was no point really, and honestly he didn't even really care if he got any of his hearing back. He'd prepared for this eventuality years ago and could cope just fine.

But dammit if Natasha wasn't going to try. Because she wasn't going to let him get away with doing nothing. Because if he wasn't going to believe in himself then she would have to do it for him. Because for all her hardened exterior and cold front that everyone else knew so well, she still cared about him sometimes more than he cared about himself. And that, of course, was why he loved her. Or part of why, at least, along with about a million other things.

Still, as she sat him down in his favorite with the noise reducing headphones covering his ears and the blindfold obscuring the only thing he felt he had left, all the reassurances in the world wouldn't make him stop doubting the success of what she was trying to do. But still he went along with it. Partly because he would do anything to make her happy; but even more so because there was some part of him, however small, that wanted to believe as strongly as she did that things would turn out alright in the end. Of all the endless skills she had, sometimes that was the one he envied the most.

So he sat still, and he waited. For what, he didn't know. Certainly there was no magical song or sound or tone that could instantly repair hearing loss, and even if there was it probably wouldn't work on his case anyway. But he listened anyway, straining to pick up on something, anything, that would prove her right. How desperately he wanted just this one time for her to be proved right. But nothing came. His ears were as empty as ever, emptier, in fact, than ever before. He was about to give it up for a lost cause, was moving to take off the headphones, when he felt her hands on his.

She guided him up to his feet. She rested one hand on his shoulder, and placed one of his hands on her lower back; their other two hands held each other for dear life. She lead him, slowly at first, around the room, trying to make his feet realize what the rest of him could not. She willed him, through her persistent, careful steps, to make the connection she knew he could.

That was when he felt it. Not the soft weight of her hand on his shoulder, nor the gentle curve of her back, nor the way her other hand held his so intently he couldn't dream of ever letting go, but something else. Something deep inside, deep within his head, in the place where low sounds resonate, he felt it. A beat. A rhythm.

He found himself taking the lead. Somehow, though he could not hear the music, he knew all the steps, every glide and turn coming as naturally as if he had practiced it every day of his life.

And suddenly he understood. Not through sight or sound but through feeling. This song could not repair hearing loss, but it was magical nonetheless. He knew because he recognized in it now the same thing he had then, all those years ago, when they had first danced to this song, their first dance together ever on their first mission.

The beat of this song perfectly matched the beat of her heart.

Since then they had danced together across a million dance floors, as strangers, acquaintances, friends, lovers, spouses, all with some varying degree of truth behind them. But never, since that first dance of so many, had there been a song that matched her so perfectly.

Yes, he had always had the advantage of superior vision. And yes, he had prepared himself years ago with sign language and lip reading and recognition of the subtlest of facial expressions. But he had never even thought to prepare himself by feeling. Just as he had never prepared himself for her.


End file.
